


Disturbances

by Elisexyz



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: (All three of them are together), Domestic Fluff, Drunkenness, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: The first thing he hears, as the front door opens, is giggling.Or pointless OT3 fluff because why not.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller, Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller
Comments: 19
Kudos: 47





	Disturbances

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I just needed to write something cute. Enjoy!

The first thing he hears, as the front door opens, is giggling.

Illya smiles reflexively, happy to hear that they are in a good mood and still alive – which, considering what can happen when Solo and Gaby go out to drink and dance without adult supervision, is far from being a given.

They are probably drunk, but he can’t hear anyone tripping over furniture above the ushered voices, so he rules against getting up and helping them to bed.

It doesn’t take them all that long to get to the bedroom: since Illya had been trying to sleep, all the lights are off, so they kick off their shoes by the door, Gaby earning a scolding ‘Ssshh!’ from Solo that probably makes more noise than her shoes did. Illya keeps lying still, spying them through the crack left open by his eyelids and trying not to laugh as they hold onto each other for balance and stumble towards the bed.

Solo lands face first and comes up with a snort, to which Gaby smacks him in the head and shushes him. “He’s _sleeping_ ,” she hisses, outraged. Illya, his chest filled with curiosity, has no intention of contradicting her. He wonders when they will realize that they left the light on in the living room.

They crawl their way up the bed and, as he actually closes his eyes this time, he feels Solo flopping against him and Gaby making her way under the covers.

There’s silence for a few moments.

“Solo, the _light_.”

And there it is.

Solo hums disapprovingly, curling around Illya’s arm. “ _You_ go.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_.”

“ _Yes_.”

Gaby huffs, then she stretches above him, giving Solo a shake. “Scissors rock paper,” she declares, because that is obviously the most reasonable, grown-up way to settle this. Illya barely manages not to laugh as they wave their hands right above their supposedly sleeping partner, trying to estimate the chances of them accidentally _hitting_ him, drunk as they are.

They play four rounds, and Gaby manages to win none. Solo surprisingly keeps the bragging to a minimum, apparently more interested in snuggling up to him, and once Gaby has begrudgingly accepted her defeat and turned off the light, she quickly runs back to her previous position, careful not to jostle him too much – she doesn’t really succeed, but he appreciates the effort.

“Solo!” she calls out after a few moments, shaking him and sounding absolutely delighted.

“Hmm?”

“Like a _carrot_ ,” she declares, like she just had a revelation. Illya has no idea what she means, but apparently Solo does, because the comment is enough to send him into a giggling fit, promptly suffocated in Illya’s shoulder.

“The _carrot_ ,” he echoes, out of breath. Their giggling is contagious and Illya can feel a smile pushing against the corner of his mouth. He manages to school it, but then Gaby starts touching his face, trailing down his cheek with her fingertip. She stops near his mouth, then she starts pocking at his lips, and at that he can’t help finally smiling.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, without any kind of warning, which, in hindsight—probably not the best idea.

Gaby gasps audibly, pulling back with enough force that she probably would have fallen off the bed if Illya hadn’t reflexively grabbed her, while Solo only yells a very outraged ‘Peril!’ in his ear.

“We thought you were _asleep_ ,” Gaby says, flipping him in the chest in a show of disapproval.

“If I had been, you two would have woken me up,” he points out, evenly.

Gaby huffs. “We were very quiet.”

“Eh,” Solo intervenes, having apparently already decided that he’s over the betrayal, seeing as he’s wrapping himself around Illya like an overgrown koala. “ _I_ was quiet.”

“You were practically shouting!” She reaches out to shove him, but she’s clumsy and Solo’s hold is pretty solid, so she desists quickly enough. “Illya, kick him off,” is her new plan.

Illya huffs. “No. Sleep, both of you. You can argue about it in the morning.”

“I’m already sleeping!” Solo declares, proudly.

“You are _talking_ ,” Gaby protests, but she does lie back down, hopefully with every intention of getting some sleep.

Hearing the two of them argue can fall on a whole spectrum that goes from incredibly amusing to horribly nerve-wracking, and right now, after having spent the whole evening feeling low-key uneasy in the empty apartment and finally finding himself with his arms full, Illya is edging towards the ‘please, shut up and let me sleep’ point on that spectrum.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, before Solo can come up with an answer and hopefully putting an end to the debate for the time being.

“Tomorrow I’ll kick his ass,” Gaby declares, the end of the sentence disappearing in a yawn. She curls a little more on herself, tucked at Illya’s side with her head pressed against his shoulder.

Solo hums. “Buy me dinner first,” he mutters, shifting a little and somehow managing to tighten his hold on Illya, like he has mistaken him for a big teddy bear that he can squeeze to death. “’Night, Peril,” he adds, with a kiss to his shoulder that probably means that he’s too sleepy to pull himself up and reach his cheek or mouth. Illya can’t help smiling, every annoyed thought that ever passed through his head already evaporated.

Gaby yawns and mutters something that he thinks is a ‘goodnight, Illya’, making his heart swell some more because that’s just the way his life goes around the two of them, and she’s out like a light in a matter of seconds.

The silence presses comfortably against his ears for a few moments, as he’s left staring at the ceiling, cataloguing every point of tension in his body and working on relaxing his muscles as he waits for Solo’s breathing to even out too.

He’s pretty sure that, by the time he managed to sink into sleep as well, it was to the sound of snoring filling the room.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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